


There's No Saints Here

by gala_apples



Category: Deadly Class (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bisexual Male Character, F/M, First Time Bottoming, Flirting, M/M, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Questioning, Seduction, Threesome, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 14:46:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18478405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: It takes a long time to get Billy on board. But at King's Dominion, no sin goes uncommitted forever.





	There's No Saints Here

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'flirting/seduction' prompt for seasonofkink.

Lex does his best jerking off in bathrooms. Started with shitty anarchist brothers respecting no boundaries, and the bathroom being the room most likely to not have someone barge in. And then he was homeless, and not quite stooping as low as jerking off in an alley when a few blocks away a KMart public bathroom stood open. Even once the punk scene started gaining him mates to couch surf with, not exactly fair to munk it on Sawhead Sandy’s cushions when a locked door and wipeable tile sit twenty feet away, is it?

Being at King’s Dominion makes things no different. Lex has a roommate, and no way to wash his own sheets. Better to gamble with someone walking in to the third floor bathroom, and still only hearing an anonymous guy, than the total certainty of Michael overhearing him. He wanks with his ass against the cold metal wall of the stall, cock at the exact angle to erupt into the bogwater. It might not make a sexy sight, but you have to be a pretty boring bloke to not be able to close your eyes and daydream what you want. 

One night Lex is taking care of business and the door creaks open. Lex’s hand stills on his dick as he waits for the bloke to piss, or shit, and get out. Hopefully it’s nothing too rancid, or he’ll have to come back later. 

When the guy in the stall next to him starts to jerk off, Lex wants to bark out a laugh. Not alone in his preferences, apparently. It gets a lot less funny when Lex hears a distinctive thunk and a muttered swear. That’s the clunk of a cast against a hard surface. Lex has only heard it a thousand times in the last six weeks.

However Billy adjusts himself, he doesn’t smash his broken arm against a wall a second time. Lex is happy for that at least. The feckin’ idiot has been bullied by the Legacies too much as it is, Billy doesn’t need to hurt himself too. What he’s less happy about is hearing every slip of skin. Every moment of it is weakening him. He knows how this is going to end, can easily see it coming, and is powerless to stop it. 

Lex gives in, eventually. He follows the same hedonistic side of him that had him gleefully helping his older brothers steal, and knocks on the wall.

“Hey, there. You wanna trade a blow for a blow? No pressure though.” Lex knows there’s queer queer and there’s prison/military/boarding school queer. He’s the first. Enough of an interest in women to get by in society, but more than enough interest in men to know his brothers would hate him. 

Billy doesn’t say anything, but he opens the stall. Lex follows suit. This suckoff trade probably shouldn’t take place in the middle of the room, but they can decide where to go after a kiss or two. At least if Billy’s up for that bit. Lex’d like to, but straights-gone-gay-in-confinement don’t always accept queer making out.

Unfortunately, the moment he actually lays eyes on Billy he knows he’s not getting anything he wants, never mind a lack of making out. Lex has reading the room down to a tee, thanks various past traumas, and it’s easy to read this. Billy’s got his trou pulled up. Zipped up. There’s only one reason he’d do something so irrational. 

“Hey. Yeah, uh, hi Lex. I thought it was you. Sounded like you,” Billy rambles nervously.

“Not a lot of proper accents here,” Lex allows. He’d like to be more standoffish about getting turned down, but he can’t really afford it. He’s a Rat, he only has a few friends as it is. He likes Billy, as much as he likes any of the cunts at King’s Dominion.

“I won’t tell anyone. I swear, man,” Billy says. He makes a gesture with his hand, his thumb over his bent pinky. “Boyscout’s honor. But-”

“You’re not gonna put my knob in your mouth. Yeah, I get it. Go about your wank.”

Billy shrugs. “I mean, you were here first.”

“I’ll come back later.” Lex has little interest in freaking out a mate by jerking off beside him when it’s already been established that interaction is a no go.

“Uh. Okay then.” 

Billy retreats back into his stall. Lex leaves. If there’s temptation in staying in the bathroom, staying silent and listening to a cute bloke choke on his breath as he comes into his palm, well, his brothers sure the fuck showed him the downside of following temptation, now, didn’t they?

***

The high from the glue’s worn off long ago, but Lex still feels fucked up. Petra likes them both. Or tolerates them both. Whatever the level of emotion, she’s up for shagging, but only both at the same time. Lex isn’t sure what he’s more grateful for, the actual offer, or the idea of it leading to Billy tucked in beside him so they can jointly study the Kama Sutra. Lex does his British best to be overtly sexual at all times, but Billy so rarely plays along. A goddamn shame, really. Unfortunately Billy is having some reservations, and Lex can only press so hard before Petra smells the stink of neediness and backs off.

It really is the last straw though, when Petra accuses him of having gay panic. “Not quite,” he replies and with the attitude of a bullet barrelling down a chamber, Lex grabs Billy’s face and plants a wet kiss on his lips. Lex gets a good four seconds in before the inevitable: Billy whiplashing out of his grip.

“I thought we were looking at strictly no touching positions!” 

“Yeah, well, fuck that,” Lex declares.

“What?”

“How eloquent do you need me to be? Petra wants to shag up with two blokes she feels safe with? Good for her. I want some peanut butter and jelly on my sandwich.”

Billy starts to stutter out “Am I- which am- because it’d make the most sense if I-”

“It’s a metaphor, you twat. I’ve sucked a cock or seven before. I’m a goddamn champion at it. Want to give it a go?” 

Billy isn’t the only bloke he’d fool around with at this school. Marcus, David, Ryan. There’s no shame in admitting you have a type, and punk does it for him, quasi-oedipal or not. But there is something special about Billy, his brave awkward underdog attitude. Lex wants Billy’s body and his personality. All the other guys it’d just be an orgasm and leave. Lex would spend an evening with Billy afterwards. He _has_ spent a few months of evenings with him. He really fucking wants Billy to say yes, wants to suck his cock and swallow his jizz and then watch whatever shitty movie is on tv.

It’s that friendship that has him backing down easy when Billy tenses up. Billy isn’t gay enough for this? Even the addition of a girl it’s too much for him? Fine. Lex isn’t a creep. He gets off the bed and returns to fully dressed. He passes the stretching time of the lockdown flipping through Petra’s records and cassettes and giving his commentary on all her choices. Goth and punk don’t always overlap, but that only means he has choices to heckle. If his jokes are a little forced, if Petra’s sullen remarks and Billy’s laughs are a beat too slow, well, it’s fine. They’ll get over it.

***

Clubs like this? These are Lex’s kingdom. Not for true respect of monarchy, because fuck all power systems. Because he’s the overseer in this crowd. His throne is the mosh pit. His crown is his spiked hair. But his subjects? Yeah, that’s where the metaphor really fits, because his subjects are every person in this room with an ounce of been-here-before. Billy’s the one with tickets, but Lex is the one who knows the bouncer’s name is ironically Chuck, and this is his second job as he’s trying to pay for the Porsche his wife Denise demanded on threats of divorce and child custody. 

Billy’s crazy to think that this band is anything but a fad, this coast’s sorry excuse for real punk. Still, Lex can always find entertainment in a writhing and bone grinding crowd. He throws himself around again and again, gets sweaty and assaulted, unable to feel the bruises blooming thanks to the insulation of adrenaline and serotonin. He pays for cheap cups of beer with spare change, because he’s done enough favors for the bartenders -sexual and chore based- that they all charge him less than they should. 

He loses track of everyone from school, one by one. Billy’s short, and he blends in perfectly. He’s probably close to the stage, since he actually pre-ordered tickets. Saya and Marcus next. They were at the bar with him for a while, Marcus getting impressively smashed, but Lex went back to dance before they did, and now they’re nowhere to be seen. Petra Lex loses last. She’s in her element here, in a different way than the rest of them. Billy and Marcus and Saya were all different percentages of fitting in. Petra’s not fitting in, she’s a beautiful foreground of a painting, and all of this place lands as her background. Even when Lex is in the middle of getting shoved, he can’t stop looking at her. But in the end, she’s gone, and Lex is surrounded by only strangers and people who knew him when he was still homeless. 

Eventually he has to piss. He breaks free from the mass of spiked and beleathered twenty year olds and makes his way to the decrepit bathroom. It’s typical punk scene bathroom; every wall graffitied with the words of a thousand nights and experiences, double the amount of urinals than toilets, floor littered with bottles and cups. Cass, one of the bartenders, let him sleep in the women’s bathroom once, let him just crash here overnight one time when she both closed and opened. The floors were hard, of course, but wonderfully piss free.

As Lex is washing his hands, Billy comes in. He doesn’t head for one of the urinals or the only open stall. Instead he crosses to the bank of sinks and gets close.

“I could probably kiss you,” he says.

“Oh, could you? It’d be the queen’s own honour,” Lex says sarcastically.

“Shut up asshole. I’m new to the big queer stuff, okay?” It’s hard to tell if this is drunken sincerity, or honest confession. Lex has been fucked up enough, and been around enough fucked up people, to know that drunken blabbing isn’t always a lie. It’s just ephemeral, sometimes. The truth in that one intoxicating moment isn’t always the truth a day later, or even a hour later, depending how flakey the personality type is. If Billy’s sober it means a little more to the future.

“Tell me again tomorrow, then,” Lex answers, pushing more firmness into his voice than he really feels. He wants to feel Billy’s chest against his. He wants to taste what Billy’s been drinking, lick it off the back of his throat. But he’s had sex with enough drunk people to know mornings after can get ugly, and that’s without a big coming out scene a questioning person wasn’t ready for. They’re raiding a serial killer’s home tomorrow, to steal back a decapitated head. They can’t afford a wobblie about sexuality.

***

Hours later, Lex pours Billy into the curbside seat of the taxi he called. He didn’t have the number memorised, never enough guaranteed funds to make a ride worth the cost, but Chuck knew it. Lex goes around the back of the taxi and plays chicken with oncoming traffic to get the street side door open. He gives an address close enough to King’s Dominion that he has confidence in being able to steer Billy the rest of the way. Maybe not without getting caught, but it’s not the first time since enrollment that one of the school monks have caught Lex coming in from a concert. If they showed any emotion, it’d probably be resignation.

“I’m thinkin’ about it and I thin’ I could fuck you,” Billy says to the roof of the cab. He’s sloshed enough that holding his head up is no longer an ability he has. 

Lex crosses his arms. Things haven’t changed since three hours ago. He can’t gauge how permanent Billy’s flirtation with queerhood goes. The Gay Until Release Date guys he knew at least had a internal code of justifications set up, some really predictable shit. Lex doesn’t trust this too good to be true and somehow condescending at the same time offer.

“No, seriously, I think I could. I think Petra would like it. She said gay panic like it was a bad thing, right?”

“Well, we’ll see, Billy-o-Boy. Need to make sure Petra still wants to, that’s just proper.”

The driver is glaring in his rear view like he wants to kick them out and splatter their queer brains across five blocks of sidewalk. Lex glares back. He’s seen too much to be scared by that kind of simple menace. That is some Year Four shit, and Lex’s got his GCSEs.

“Do you like getting fucked?” Billy asks. He sounds almost wistful. Lex knows that in this moment he could get Billy naked in an alley a minute after getting the cabbie to pull over. He won’t. That doesn’t mean it’s easy to do the right thing. 

Lex gives himself one concession. Maybe it’s backsliding on his mental promise to be the kind of bloke his dad would want him to be, but the angle of the slope of his life is so vertical he can’t help but slide once and again. It’s easier for suburban little boys to be good than people who’ve seen the shit he’s seen. Lex’s concession is this: honesty. 

“Christ, yes. Billy, Jesus, it’s like...” Lex pulls the cigarette out of the crook of his ear and starts rolling it between his palms. “It’s like being expansive, being the biggest thing in the room. It’s like being a piece of bubblegum, stretching in every direction and the focus of some wet attention. I love the stretch, and I love being the centre of attention. Spent too long camouflaging.”

If his statement ends on a bummer, alluding to past drama, well, Billy’s too drunk to pick up on it. Instead he starts singing a commercial for some shite called Doublemint Gum. It’s probably for the best, considering the homophobic cabbie. Now he just has to trick himself into not imagining getting fucked until he’s in the privacy of a toilet stall.

***

As Lex staggers away from Fuckface’s cult house, keeping pressure on the slice on his chest, Billy and Petra follow closely behind. Billy’s babbling, his coping mechanism for stress and all the violence and gore they’ve just witnessed. Funny how it’s really not that much different than day to day Billy. Or maybe it’s just that Lex has never known Billy not stressed and under the gun. 

Billy’s not talking about the nightmare they’ve just seen. Not really. From what Lex can tell, he’s talking about love, and fate. He’s going on about how when the raiding reality veered off from Saya’s plan, and Petra had to pick between Lex’s orders re: the explosives and Billy’s new idea, Petra went with Billy, and she saved his life before they nearly kissed.

“She chose me, but I figured out then that we could choose you.”

Lex thinks Billy is putting too much emotional stock into tactical manoeuvres. But he gets it. They all have abandonment issues. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t be at a school attempting to teach them how to murder before how to drive. If Billy sees his rescue of Lex from one of those goddamn hillbillies as a romantic gesture, well, it’s not the craziest thought thunk tonight.

Lex is pulled into a kiss. He wants to touch Billy’s cheek, his neck, his zipper, but he’s forced to keep pressure on his wound. Billy smells like blood but he doesn’t taste of it. Small miracles even an atheist can be grateful for. Lex saw a guy be chainsawed in half. He doesn’t need more blood tonight. Petra watches with unveiled interest. It takes a certain type of girl to suggest a threesome, and Lex is happy to have that kind of girl beside him. He’d also be happy to have the use of both hands, and that means he needs a bandage and maybe a few stitches. 

“This has been lovely, truly. But wouldn’t we be better off in one of our rooms?”

Petra nods. “Not stupid.”

They start to walk again. They’ve only taken a step or two when a shot rings out in the direction they’re headed. Lex has to assume it’s one of the three others, a cultist or even Fuckface himself on a chase. Lex feels bad if it’s Saya. She’s a bloody nag, but most of this isn’t her fault. Marcus and Maria he feels less sorry for. Regardless, he’s not going back, and that means turning down a different street to not get reinvolved. Petra follows easily. Billy hesitates, and Lex understands why. He’s way more close to Marcus than Lex is, plus there’s sentiment in Marcus trying to help murder his dad. Wee bit unfair considering Lex offered only about a hundred times, and if he’d been in Vegas things would have gone a fuck of a lot smoother, but it is as it is. Lucky for him, Billy’s really got choosing people on the mind, and after a minute of weighing emotional alliances, catches up to Lex and Petra.

For some reason, attempting a late night return doesn’t pull down on their heads. The guards in the restaurant look at them, and Lex is certain their eagle eyes notice all the dishevelment, but no one says anything. At King’s Dominion parental figures are very hands off, even in the face of growing blood stains.

They go to Petra’s room. It’s late enough for Anna to be sleeping, but lucky for them she’s easily bullied. She’s here because she’s a Legacy, not because she has true killer instinct. That’s one of the reasons the Rat/Legacy dichotomy is such bullshit. These people are here because their families and networks say they should be. Rats are here because an observer witnesses some real life badassery. By any sane grading rubric that makes Rats more worthy than Legacies. But it’s a rant he’s given before, and it’s a rant for another time because there they are, alone again.

Lex tosses his jacket to the floor. Time enough later to see if it’s ruined, or just distressed in a way his music scene can appreciate. The shirt comes off next. It’s a little worrisome that it’s not a bitch to pull off, fabric embedded in tacky dried blood. His wound is still freshly bleeding. Thing is, Lex’s spent the last eighteen years with inadequate medical supervision. Before he was an homeless illegal immigrant he was a rowdy boy babysat by sociopaths who’s innocent father would have found out if he went to a hospital. Given the options of going to the nurse and getting a few stitches and the certainty of Master Lin dropping in for a talk and maybe hitting him with that fucking cane, or slapping a bandage on it and worrying about it in the morning, the choice is obvious. 

Lex rummages through Petra’s first aid kit and pulls out the roll triumphantly. “Someone help me tape this on?”

Petra steps forward. Lex would take any steady hands, but it’s nice to have Petra touching him, confirming that this thing they have between them is still there.

Like last time, Petra’s the one to kick it all off. She does it without opening a dialogue, or kissing one of them. She just starts peeling off her clothes. The jacket’s first, and could be excused as settling indoors. But then her sheer and velvet shirt comes off, and then her jeans. There’s a pile of black clothing on the floor, and there she is standing in just her underwear. Lex can’t remember the last time he was so easily captivated.

Petra looks as good in this black bra as she did in the other one. It’s an image not easily forgotten, and Lex is certain that one didn’t have grey pinstripes. It’s enough to make Lex wonder if all Petra’s knickers are sexy, because there’s no way she specifically wore sexy underthings to go kill Fuckface. Lex wants to touch her tits. So he does. That’s what they’re here for, after all, and Petra’s made it pretty clear she’s not tolerating beating around the bush.

“Should we plan who does what where?” Billy asks anxiously.

“Oh yeah, because that worked so well last time,” Petra says scornfully.

“How about we just do stuff? I have confidence that if Petra doesn’t like something I’m doing she’ll hit me with a blowdart.” This tit touching, for example. Seems to be going just lovely.

“Uh, okay? Okay,” Billy repeats, like he’s trying to psych himself up. Their first attempt at a threesome involved a lot of that too. The difference is now Lex is going to grab the bull by the horns. No more fucking Kama Sutra. Threesomes don’t happen via sitting down to read.

Starting with Billy probably isn’t the best of choices. Lex has struggled with their back and forth flirting, and all the negative results. Petra however seems like a certain thing. After all, he’s got her luscious tits in his hands. Part of signing on at King’s Dominion is a full medical workup. As of September Lex had no STDs and he hasn’t had sex without a johnny since. He has to assume the others are clear, or it would have already come up. So it’s with great relish that Lex gets on his knees and tugs black panties down so he can lick a wide stripe up Petra. Her pussy is neatly trimmed, no hair to tickle his cheeks. She tastes like sweet musk. 

After a few decent licks, Lex pulls back. “Nice muffbox you’ve got here.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says in a tone that Lex is fairly sure is affectionate.

“An idiot with your clit on my tongue,” he reminds her, before returning to exactly that. 

Lex stops before he brings Petra to orgasm. He has no doubt that he could, her thighs have started to shake. But he doesn’t want her to come, he wants her horny. Besides, Billy’s been worryingly still. Any of the other bi guys Lex knows would be fighting for position by now. If he’s freaking out about seduction again, Lex is going to go out of his gourd. He laps her clit one last time, and pulls himself to his feet. 

“Touch him.” Petra murmurs out into the air, and waits to see if Billy will listen. Clearly Lex isn’t the only one seeing a concerning lack of action.

Billy will do anything Petra asks of him, anything at all. Honestly, that’s probably a given for any of Billy’s friends, Billy being a open heart. He’s wrong for this life, and Lex hates his fucking father for how he sold his goddamned own son. Rest in fucking pieces, Mr Bennett. But ignoring the core rod of anger for the moment, Lex is pleased to know that Billy’s adoration of Petra includes following her lead, sexually. When she whispers those soft words, Billy turns his body to nuzzle against Lex, an arm snaking around his waist to draw him in.

“I fuckin’ love you both, so much.” Billy’s voice is softer, but so full of conviction. Lex can only put so much stock into a statement like that, but he believes that Billy believes. It’s almost true, in that way. 

Lex twists in their hug, then. He makes it so that they’re face to face, bleeding chest to t-shirted chest, prick to prick. It burns to throw himself against Billy and get a second kiss, but it’s worth it when Billy doesn’t pull away. After a slow seduction to the queer side, Billy’s finally accepting that he’s less than straight.

He pulls away only to encourage more nudity. Petra’s there, her bra and panties having joined the rest of the black fabric on the floor. All it takes for Lex is to pull his studded belt loose, then let his safety pinned jeans fall down. Billy is the last. It’s funny how the green mohawk stands out less against bare skin than it does when he’s in school uniform.

Lex wants his first kiss from Petra. He turns to her. Petra tastes like cola and waxy black lipstick. Her tits mash against his chest, making him ache. His dick presses against her cunt, and there’s nothing Lex wants more than to slide inside of her. But some things have to come first. Billy touching Petra, the love of his life, is one of those things.

"Put your hand on her," Lex says, leaning back so Billy can slip his arm between them and curl his fingers on top of Petra’s cunt. Lex’s not usually so giving with the things that he treasures, but Billy’s presence and his actions have left Lex helpless with want, have led them to this. He can stand to share, just a little bit. At least with someone deserving.

Lex breaks away from Petra then. He takes a step back to let Billy stand against her and slip his fingers into her wet gash. He thinks he’ll lick those fingers, in a few minutes. For now, he drops to his knees, this time angled towards Billy. He adjusts them all so he can get his head on Billy without interrupting what they’re doing. And then he does what he’s wanted to do for a month. Lex blows him. 

It’s been a while since Lex has last sucked a dick. At least a few weeks. Like most Americans, Billy’s got no foreskin. Without it, there’s less that Lex can do with his tongue, so he finds himself deepthroating Billy sooner rather than later. Billy’s average sized, and Lex is able to get him all the way down. Nose buried in Billy’s pubes he doesn’t smell like blood anymore. All Lex’s senses are focused on the cock in his mouth, not the disaster and near-death that was the evening. 

Lex sucks Billy for only minutes before he’s coming in his mouth. He decides to claim the triumph based on his own fantastic technique, not Billy being new to this and easy to set off. If there’s one thing that could be said for Lex, it’s that he’s great at oral, irrespective of genitals. He’s even better when no barriers are placed between skin and his tongue. Yeah it’s a little weird to get a mouth full of jizz when it usually just fills a condom, but it’s worth ‘weird’ to get Billy orgasming.

Lex rises to his feet. He’s got a vague idea for what to do next. Hopefully Billy’s fingers have created room in Petra’s gash, because he wants to fuck her. But the moment he does, Billy looks all of a sudden anxious. It’s too off putting for Lex to continue making a move. Billy opens his mouth a few times to say something, each time aborting. 

Finally Lex prompts him, “what is it, then?”

“Do you think you could order me to blow you?” Billy rifles his hand through his drooping hair. “I just feel like- I think it would be easier- Could you just like force me to do it?” 

Lex looks at him. “No. BDSM’s not really my thing. But I know someone who it is. If they’re sober. So probably not. But it can’t hurt to try to contact them, if that’s what you wanna try. Afterwards, though. Right now you should just suck me because you like it.”

Petra offers, “what if I say I’ll only let you eat me out if you promise to suck Lex off?”

Lex gets it. Everyone takes care of themselves first, it’s the way this trash planet works. Of course Petra wants to get munched on. Well, Lex wants to get off too, in a way that’s not creepy to Billy. 

“You don’t have to suck me for me to be in you,” Lex says. “I reckon you know where else I mean.”

Billy crosses his arms, body language screaming over-defensive. “I’ve thought about it, since way before you told me it feels good. Sometimes it felt like the only thing I could think about. Fun, until reality hits. My dad would have killed me for it, you know.”

“My brothers weren’t shit-hot either. But that’s only the reality society wants you to perceive. Anarchists can rise above it. If we just-”

Petra snorts. “Enough with the call to arms, buddy. Billy’s here, isn’t he?”

“Billy, my Billy-o. If you don’t want to have sex, it’s okay. Who wouldn’t be drawn more towards this Frankenstein's wife dark beauty?” 

“My dad’s dead. I want you to fuck me. I think I might freak out if I try to suck your dick, be face to face with it, but a fuck has to be like a reverse shit, at worst. Fuck me, Lex? Okay?”

It’s not the best flirting that Lex has ever come across. Billy is awkward, and shy, and vaguely gross. Lex is also still questioning, a little, why he’s freaked out at the idea of a blowjob, but thinks anal is just dandy. But the thing is, despite all the negative traits, he’s also _cute_. Lex will trade awkward for cute, in this instance.

They end up on Petra’s bed. She’s at the top of the bed, semi reclined thanks to all the pillows in the room propping her back. Lex didn’t even know you could request more than one pillow, never mind like six or seven. Petra’s legs are thrown open wide, and her cunt is glistening. Lex would taste her again, lap up her nectar, except that space is being taken up by Billy. There’s no enthusiasm quite like First Box Eating Enthusiasm. Lex meanwhile is behind Billy, pouring lube down his ass crack. Not vaseline or lotion, the things Lex usually makes do with. Actual lubricant, because Petra is the kind of girl to own enough vibrators to make the expense worth it.

Billy lets out a sob when Lex gets his first finger inside him. He played first, of course, fingertips pressing on his rosebud, rubbing the wet on every millimeter of sensitive skin he had. But eventually, fingering. And now Billy’s hitched a breath so loud Lex can hear it escape Petra’s folds.

Lex adds more fingers, because that’s the name of the game. Each one gets an intense a reaction as Lex has seen before, and he’s been with all sorts of people in mind altering situations. And finally Lex is pushing the spongy head of his cock against Billy’s hole, and Billy is accepting him. 

It’s not easy for him, Lex can tell. He’s pinching tight against Lex’s foreskin. The noises he’s making into Petra’s wet flesh is another sign. Petra can interpret it correctly too. She’s stroking his head, just to the right of his mohawk. Lex wonders if Billy’s scalp is extra sensitive. He knows a guy who shaves a mohawk for just that reason. Garcia can come from a head massage. He wonders if Billy will still want this relationship in the morning, and if he’ll get the chance to see how Billy reacts to a scalp massage.

“I know there’s pressure, lad. Tell me when you’re ready.” Lex knows this pressure. It’s the teeth chomping the gum. It’s what you go through to get to the expanding and floating part.

Billy doesn’t just tell him. Billy starts a fucking rhythm that Lex can’t help but swing into. Fuck only knows if it’s doing anything for Petra on the other side, but Lex is deeply enjoying this side of the metronome of Billy’s body. Billy begs him, repeats over and over again to fuck him, please fuck him, oh my god please fuck him, and Lex would record this sound to vinyl and play it in every club in America, if he could. 

Petra and Billy come at the same time, like in all the romantic movies Lex went five years without seeing, the time between sneaking glimpses on telly when his brothers were distracted and watching a movie over chow mein with a bartender he fucked his way to a three week couch surf for. It’s sad, how much he invests in those snippets. Everything in this capitalist, carefully curated to not have any reality, garbage heap world is represented in those formulaic rom-coms. And yet he can’t bring himself to hate them the way he hates chain stores and advertisements on buses.

Lex knows at that moment, the moment they sigh at the same time, in the same wavering tone, that even if he becomes boyfriends with them, they’ll always be strangers to him. They’re just so perfect with each other, there’s no way he’ll ever understand them properly. As pathetically corny as it sounds, as much as he’ll never say it out loud, they’re like soulmates, and that makes them strangers to anyone else.

But Lex isn’t a good guy, okay? He’s well aware of all the fucked up shit he’s done. The drugs and sleeping around, sometimes for fun and sometimes to get shit he wants, like a place to sleep. The crimes with his brothers and all the lying. Ruining his dad’s life, no take-backs possible. Petra’s sweaty breasts gleam up at him. Billy’s lips are bright red, bitten red. Add it to his list of sins, but Lex isn’t giving this up. He’ll be a shitty third wheel boyfriend, actively chose to taint their togetherness. Better to be a seductor than abandoned.


End file.
